the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 543 Benjamin Wants to Be a Tadpole in the Story, Bra

Benjamin’s birthday coincided with Double Ninth Festival, and it was also her first weekend since starting kindergarten.

The night before her birthday, Benjamin lay in bed with her eyes closed for an hour, unable to fall asleep out of excitent. Finally, the little girl got up, slipped into her pink butterfly slippers, and hurried to knock on the study room door. Her voice was soft and timid, like a little kitten’s, as she said, "Daddy, I can’t sleep."

Ignatius Leclair was imrsed in work. The study, with its cool-toned décor, was utterly silent. In the dark of night, his features appeared even sterner than in daylight, exuding a years-long aura of solitude.

Hearing his daughter’s tender, syrupy voice, the pen in Ignatius’s hand paused slightly. He raised his sharp eyes toward the doorway, beckoning to the little girl in her pink sleepwear and said in his deep voice, "Benjamin, co here."

Benjamin scampered into her daddy’s arms like a tiny butterfly, climbing onto his lap and sitting down properly.

The little girl looked up at him with her large jet-black eyes, soft and sweet, as she said, "Benjamin just dread of Mommy. Will Mommy co to celebrate my birthday?"

For the first ti in four years, the little girl ntioned her mother in front of him. A faint shadow flickered in the depths of Ignatius’s eyes.

Benjamin’s appearance was becoming more and more like a miniature version of Delphine, especially her eyes—dark and pure, brimming with an unspoken vibrancy. Though one was aloof and solitary while the other was lively and radiant, Ignatius couldn’t help but see traces of that woman in Benjamin.

Over the past few years, Ignatius rarely thought about Delphine Carter. His strongest mory of her was her perpetually pale face, frad in delicate features tinged with a faint and indistinct indifference—a type that Magnus Leclair liked, yet she remained the mother of his most cherished daughter.

"Your mommy isn’t in the Imperial City," Ignatius finally said after a prolonged silence, his voice low and reserved.

Benjamin’s large eyes quickly welled up, glistening with tears she fought to hold back. She didn’t want to cry, but the pain was undeniable.

"How about we find a new mommy for Benjamin?" Ignatius stroked his daughter’s fluffy little head, softly consoling her.

"Daddy, don’t you like Mommy?" The four-year-old girl, precocious beyond her years, countered with a question.

Like her? Three years had passed, and that woman never returned to see Benjamin. His life had carried on peacefully, as though her presence—or absence—made no difference.

"If you don’t like her, why did you have Benjamin?" The little girl, filled with grievance, muttered. She had tugged so hard on the butterfly bow of her pink pajamas that it had co undone.

She wanted her mommy—not any new mommy. She wanted to know what her mommy looked like, why she took her brother and left Benjamin behind. At kindergarten, every other child was picked up by their mommy after school; only Benjamin was collected by either her great-grandmother or daddy.

Ignatius found himself at a loss for words. The handso contours of his face reflected a certain lancholy. The villa indeed felt empty and lifeless; perhaps it was ti to find an appropriate new mother figure for Benjamin.

Ignatius lifted the little girl dressed in pink, speaking softly, "Daddy will tell you a bedti story so Benjamin can sleep well. Tomorrow, all your friends will co to celebrate your birthday."

Benjamin nodded, burying her small head into her daddy’s chest as she said in a pampered tone, "Benjamin wants to hear the story about the little tadpole looking for its mommy."

She wanted to be like the little tadpoles in the story, bravely searching for her mommy.

Ignatius froze abruptly, his body stiffening. Without a word, he carried the little girl back to her bedroom. After tucking her in, his slender fingers sifted through the pile of fairy tale books by the bedside and selected one. His voice, low and gravelly, began narrating the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

The little girl fell asleep halfway through the tale. Ignatius gently caressed her rosy little face, then stood up to close the door. His shadow stretched under the light, a blurred silhouette in the dim stillness. The entire villa returned once more to an unbroken silence.